


May these words be the first

by WeWalkADifferentPath



Series: This pride might just keep me warm [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Demiromantic Vernon Boyd, Erica eats a lot of bananas, Flashbacks, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Isaac Lahey, Other, Pack Cuddles, Pack Feels, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Pansexual Erica Reyes, Past Child Abuse, Pride, Stiles is stupid but self-corrects, Swearing, Timeline What Timeline, Transphobia, and inclusively, but not pizza crusts the heathen, idk don't ask me, queer as a word used frequently, so if you don't like that you won't be a fan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeWalkADifferentPath/pseuds/WeWalkADifferentPath
Summary: 5 years and 36 days ago, Isaac’s family had found him.Today, he was going to tell them who he was.Or, the gang goes to Pride together, bagels are discussed, and some important sharing happens. (Part 3 of a Pride series but can be read as a stand-alone)





	May these words be the first

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! This is the third (and officially final, but we'll see) part of my series for Pride month. I know it's past June now but hey, it's 20gayteen so, rules are meant to be broken. I hope this reads okay as a stand-alone. 
> 
> Title is from the song "Light" by Sleeping At Last. The song is actually about becoming a parent, but I'd encourage you to listen to it with the queer community in mind. It reminds me of the feeling of finding an older queer person or established group and gaining like a- well, like a pack. 
> 
> Like the tags note, there's some internalized transphobia (specifically nb-phobia), use of the word "queer" (reclaimed), and references to Isaac's canon child abuse. There's also a couple of mildly insensitive jokes from Stiles and right at the beginning, Erica gets insulted for being pan. If there's anything you're worried about feel free to find me on tumblr or twitter (linked at the bottom) and I'll fill you in on what to expect/skip.

Isaac wasn’t dumb. None of them were.

 “Slut” was meant to be an insult, but the girl’s face when Erica responded with a smiling and seamless “thank you,” was absolutely priceless. The girl, whose lack of merch and piss-poor attitude indicated that she was probably Straight(tm), had seen Erica’s pan flag and decided to make a scene. Which was, of course, a disastrous choice (for her—hilarious for the pack. Kind of a pack-bonding moment, too, so that had tremendously backfired).

“Slut” was supposed to be an insult; a rather lame one, though, really, wasn’t it? So someone happened to like sex, and was also very good at getting it. He wouldn’t congratulate someone that he hated for winning a lot of amateur sailing races—it wasn’t an insult to tell someone that they were inadvertently good at their chosen hobbies and interests. Isaac didn’t understand people sometimes.

He supposed that it was sort of like how being born _queer_ was just like being born left-handed, or blue-eyed. That was what Derek and the internet kept telling him, anyways.

Isaac was still trying to internalize the fact that gay wasn’t actually an insult, wasn’t _shameful wrong pussy fast-track to the freezer_ —

\-- but he was getting there.

The pack helped.

After that one incident, the parade continued on rather smoothly. It was loud as hell, and kind of uncomfortable if he were being honest, and he didn’t even want to think about what he was smelling, but. No one bugged them, no one threatened them, no one told them it was wrong to be who they were.

It still didn’t feel real.

Isaac wasn’t—had never been a celebratory type of person. He’d never been allowed to be, never been sure that he could be. But today he tried to be.

Today, he watched Erica sing at the top of her lungs and shake her hips; watched her and Boyd snog on a window sill with Pride flags covering their bodies for all the world to see and watched the crowd cheer them on; watched Stiles wink at every passing person in his age group (and break into NSYNC way more often than anyone should ever be allowed to, which was kind of annoying, but also kind of okay). Watched as Derek watched Stiles fondly, a small smile on his face, a tiny streak of colourful glitter-- deliberate, or accidental, Isaac didn’t know-- on his cheek.

Today, he shut off the panic, tried to tune out the screaming in his head, and let his pack form a ring around him to keep the _strangers claustrophobia memories_ away.

Today, he celebrated.

It felt pretty good.

\-- -----

“You don’t have to do this,” Derek reminded him, for the sixth time.

He fluttered around Isaac like a hummingbird, scenting and smelling him in equal measure, and ruffling his hair so much that Isaac wasn’t sure he wasn’t rubbing it all off. He’d been like that ever since the pack had gotten back to the loft. As they had clamored all over the furniture and demanded that Derek proffer pizza out of thin air, Derek had been paying them less than zero attention.

(He’d even been like that since the morning, when Isaac had awoken to an exorbitantly large pile of banana-chocolate chip pancakes and a wary smile from his Alpha. Derek cooked when he was nervous. Something about instincts to provide for pack).

Derek was nervous for him. Protecting him.

Isaac was a little tired of it, but also…

Well. He wouldn’t stop him, anyways.

“I know,” Isaac answered, for the sixth time. Derek looked apologetic.

“It’s just… I want you to do what you feel comfortable with. What _you_ want to do.” The intensity with which Derek was speaking made something in his stomach flip. “You don’t owe any of us anything.”

He knew that.

Or he’d been learning, anyways. He didn’t have to give up any pieces of himself or rearrange himself to keep people with him or to be allowed happiness. That was the theory at least. Sometimes he had to remind himself of it, had to drill it into his own head, _still,_ even though he knew.

(He hated that. He was scared that he’d never get to stop reminding himself).

But, yeah, he knew.

But he’d also seen the way that Boyd and Erica had both turned to him throughout the day, smiling at him and they’d smelled like gratitude and— they thought that he was an ally. They thought that he was brave, confronting the irreparably damaging ghosts of his father’s basement in order to join them in a crowd and celebrate who they were.

The guilt was like a rock in his throat.

They’d all only gone to Pride because of him, whether they knew it or not (they didn’t; Derek had been careful).  It had been purely, entirely selfish for him.

It was probably what had made the experience so breathtaking.

(He’d hoarded it, rather greedily, having something that was his. Who could blame him?

He’d spent half of his childhood locked in a freezer, after all).

But he couldn’t—didn’t want to keep this to himself.

Isaac valiantly resisted the urge to note that Derek was a spectacularly gigantic hypocrite, and instead said simply, “I want this. For me.”

Derek wouldn’t hear a blip in his heartbeat. It wasn’t the whole truth—it never was with Isaac, still, _still_ —but it was the truth. It was a start.

Derek gave his usual, clipped nod, and swiveled sharply to face where the rest of the group was sitting in the living room, but Isaac didn’t miss the way his smell suddenly turned to _proud_. The way his mouth softened just a little, like he wanted to smile, like it took him off guard that his face could do that. Isaac understood. He was proud of the pack too.

Which was why he was going to tell them. Now. Today.  
  
Now. 

“Okay,” he shook out his hands, fluffed his hair, and resisted the urge to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror for another five minutes or change his shirt for the third time. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do this.”

5 years and 36 days ago, Isaac’s family had found him.

Today, he was going to tell them who he was.

\--- ----

“-and it’s so freakin’ cold in here! Like I know you’re all wolves but us humans need some goddamn heat somet-“

“Would this be a good time to offer you a scarf?” Isaac interrupted, more automatic than anything. It wasn’t cold in there, and Derek had already upped the thermostat anyways, but he did happen to have an extra scarf on, and he knew for a fact that it was soft. 

(He also knew for a fact that Stiles would hate him for asking).

He heard Boyd’s scoff. Felt Derek’s low groan from beside him.

They had all scattered around the living room in what Scott would have called _a separated puppy-pile_. Not quite physically overlapping, but they may as well have been. Derek was on Isaac’s left side, having upended Stiles when they’d come to sit down; Boyd was on Isaac’s other side. Stiles was on the floor, because of course he was, leaning against the couch near Derek’s feet. Erica was stretched out pretty much characteristically on the entire loveseat adjacent (she’d barely left it since Derek and Stiles had brought it home), alternately taking bites out of her slice of pizza and a banana, which, gross. But, whatever.

The whole scene was both extremely familiar, and somehow new, every time.

Boyd had maneuvered Isaac’s legs so that they were piled over his, swiveling him so that his back was almost completely to Derek, who’d predictably pushed his own shoulder up to act like a chair-back. By now, Isaac expected it, and just let them move him limply into whatever position satisfied their wolves.

He also could have known without looking that no one else would be that physically close. That was just how it was.

It used to be Stiles, now it was him.

“Absolutely fucking not, Isaac, thank-“

“I’m nonbinary justbytheway.”

“-You.” Stiles’s voice petered out. The room echoed into an uncomfortable silence.

Shit.

Okay. Well. It wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to introduce the topic, but. It was out now. So.

He just had to keep going.

Isaac attempted a cocky smile. “Are you sure? It’s Peruvian silk.”

Stiles snorted, like he couldn’t help himself. “Peruvian-- you’re so fucking obnoxious, that is 100% not a real thing.” But he was _looking_ at Isaac. Derek’s hand had ended up on Stiles’s thigh at some point, to provide warmth because of Stiles’s comment, probably, or maybe to keep him in place for Isaac’s announcement.

Electricity bubbled under the surface of his skin, itchy and sharp.

Erica and Boyd had both stopped with pizza halfway to their mouths.  Stiles was already staring at Derek’s wrist-- where Isaac knew the trans pride bracelet was hidden away-- with dawning comprehension. Derek must not have told him, then. He’d said he wouldn’t, but Isaac had wondered--

Derek had always been closer with--

But Stiles obviously hadn’t known.

Which. That made Isaac feel kind of warm. But also pretty fucking stupid, because it would have been so much easier if Derek had just told them all, so that it wouldn’t have been this awkward moment and someone _could just_ _say something already_.

This was a mistake.

He should’ve changed his shirt that third time, or better, stayed in the bathroom and not done this at all. Shouldn’t have announced it like this. He couldn’t have just told them, individually, quietly? They probably wouldn’t have even cared. It was just Isaac being a little odd, nothing new. But had to go and make a show-and-tell out of it like it was some kind of big deal. He was tired of everything with him having to be a big deal; he couldn’t imagine how they felt having to put up with it. It was stupid, he was stupid and naïve and—

~ _did you see that pansy asshole? He’s dressed like a goddamn girl, a disgrace_

_ ~no one gives a shit about your stupid fucking drawing, Isaac. Put it in the recycling bin where it belongs and hush _

_ ~ now son, don’t tell me you’re wearing one of your mothers dresses right now. Don’t tell me that because if you are- _

Ah, fuck. He knew what this was. They weren’t flashbacks, not exactly, but. This wasn’t exactly good. He knew that he was frozen. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t restart his body. He couldn’t fix it; he just had to wait it out.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them. His heart jackhammered, but it was more out of frustration than fear. This wasn’t him, not anymore. Not in years.

He heard a shredding noise and saw Stiles flinch; realized belatedly that he’d released his claws and had torn through the fabric in his hands.

“Isaac?” It was Boyd, voice soft.

“I’m sorry.” It slipped out, somehow, despite the fact that it was _his_ scarf that he’d wrecked, so it didn’t even matter, but Stiles had flinched and he hadn’t meant to--

Derek’s hand had somehow ended up on his shoulder, warmth seeping through his shirt.  

Isaac deliberately exhaled. Something about his alpha’s touch, gentle but grounding, allowed him to pull himself back a bit. He would be fine, he was in control.

He would be fine.

The smell of tension and concern was near-choking as he blinked back to the group. Less than a couple of seconds had passed, so unfortunately for him, that meant that everyone was still staring at him.

He scraped his tongue across the dry roof of his mouth. “So -- that’s a no on the scarf, then?” The inflection wasn’t quite right, but.

Nobody moved.

Until Stiles’s laughter broke the silence, loud and grating and beautiful.

And fucking hell, it definitely should have been insulting. But Isaac was unexpectedly, sharply grateful, as the prickly feeling of being watched dissipated when heads turned to follow the sound.

Not that anyone was particularly surprised by the laughter. Stiles walked on eggshells for absolutely no one, but especially not for Isaac, whom he’d immediately found obnoxious from the day they’d met (unfair vendetta against scarves).

While the rest of the pack treated Isaac like a china doll, Stiles threw punches, literal and metaphorical. He trusted Isaac to take them. Isaac thought that maybe he needed both, the care and the trust.

Stiles was a constant. That reliability was valuable, and it was something that Isaac couldn’t seem to manage to create for himself. And in this case, Stiles’s brusque refusal to be anything but annoying as fuck had actually bailed Isaac’s ass out a little. So.

“Of course it’s a no, dickbagel.”

He still threw the scarf at him, just because.

\-- --

 “So is there a gender-neutral version of dickbagel you’d prefer, then? Genital-bagel? No, that’s definitely gotta be worse, right? It’s not even about biological sex so—wait, what pronouns do you use, anyways? Because-“

“Stiles, shut it. And don’t call anyone an anything bagel.”

Stiles made a face. He was stretched out across the floor by now, long arms weaving in the air above his head every time he spoke. He dropped them now and twisted to stare up at the wolves on the couch. “Okay, hearing Derek Hale say the word ‘bagel’ is not something I thought I’d ever get a chance to experience.”

Erica laughed uproariously. That only served to further confuse Derek, though, who scowled. “Why wouldn’t I say bagel?”

Even Boyd cracked a smile at that. Stiles sighed, like he really shouldn’t have to be explaining things. “It’s just so non-wolfy, Derek. A couple of years ago I’m pretty sure you didn’t even know what a bagel was.”

“To be fair,” Isaac pointed out, ignoring the eyebrow-scrunching that had broken out at ‘non-wolfy,’ “he did eat bagels when he took me in. But,” he added, because he was a dick, “he didn’t know what cream cheese was. I had to explain it to him my second week there.”

Stiles’s laugh almost rivalled Erica’s in volume, and Isaac ducked his head, pleased.

He took advantage of the moment to zoom in on Derek’s _content embarrassed nervous_ smell, checking out of habit but knowing that despite Derek’s protests, he actually liked being ribbed like this the same way that Isaac did, just for a different reason— he needed to be reminded that people, that the pack, felt like they could make fun of him, that he was accessible and non-threatening.

Which, if Isaac considered himself any sort of expert on Derek’s level of potential unintentional threatening-ness (he did), Derek hadn’t had an issue with that in years. In fact, the Isaac of five years ago could never have expected to see his alpha so well-adjusted.

Derek even went to therapy now.

(Which had always seemed like an obvious choice to Isaac, but no one ever asked him).

Still, Derek sputtered. “You don’t even eat dairy.”

Isaac shrugged. “True, but I know what it is.”

“I know what milk is, for fucks-“

Isaac reached to check his phone, simultaneously ducking to avoid the slice of banana that came flying past his face as the chatter turned to background noise (Derek’s indignant growl told him that Erica had hit her mark). He pulled up his inbox. He’d sent the whole pack-extended the same quick text when they’d gotten back from the parade, assuring them all that they were safe. He’d wondered if maybe they would hear from some of them, at some point.

Probably no one had gotten the message yet.

“So, Scott coming over, or what?” Erica asked, in a gap between Stiles and Derek’s bickering. She used her claws to delicately slice another piece off of her banana, flicking it into her mouth this time.

(He wanted to ask if it was the same banana she’d been eating this whole time. Maybe she somehow had a stash somewhere she was pulling them out of? Not only would she have his balls for that question, though, but he also figured that some mysteries were better left unsolved).

Everyone was looking at him expectantly. “I don’t know,” he answered, because he didn’t. “He said he might come tonight, but, he wasn’t really clear about it.”

Erica rolled her eyes, then paused, abruptly serious. “Will you tell him?”

It was a testament to how calm his pack had made him feel in the past 20 minutes or so that it actually took Isaac a second to figure out what Erica was asking him. “I don’t know,” he said.

Scott hadn’t come to the Parade. He’d said he was busy.  It wasn’t Isaac’s business, but some part of him couldn’t help but think that Scott just found the whole _queer thing_ kind of weird.

Derek glanced over at him. “He doesn’t have to know,” he said.

“I know.” But he wanted him to.

“We can tell him, if you want. So you don’t have to,” Erica offered, gaze disconcertingly scrutinizing. He shrugged.

Boyd patted his socked foot where it was still on his lap.

“I, uh, I’m not sure it matters if he knows yet,” Isaac confessed, realizing that he also hadn’t answered Stiles’s earlier question. “I use he/him pronouns, anyways. For now at least.” The last part was quiet, but they were wolves and Stiles, so he didn’t think they’d have a problem hearing him.

He waited for someone to protest that Scott should still know, but Stiles quickly nodded, all business, and Isaac didn’t have time to stop what was about to happen.

“Cool.” Stiles said, “Dickbagel it is then.” The whole pack groaned in unison, but he soldiered on with a grin, “Oh and asshole! Or what about fucker? Douchebag, hobbledehoy, pillock —“

Isaac ignored him after that. But he did note that Stiles didn’t include _bastard_ , for which he was grateful. That word was reserved for one man as far as he was concerned.

He still chucked a pillow at him though, for good measure. Stiles caught it easily, placing it gently down next to his head, on top of the ripped heap of Isaac’s scarf.

“Oh, wait! Can I call you douche-bagel? Or prick, that’s a British one right? It could be-“

“Who’s a prick?”

Stiles stopped, eyes lighting up as Scott walked in. “Bro!”

Isaac shot a look at Erica, who winked.  She and Isaac had always had the better hearing in the group, but Isaac’s general awareness wasn’t exactly operating at his full capacity after today. Probably Erica was listening even more attentively than usual.

They all had their things.

Scott sauntered over carefully, perching down next to Stiles in a _dad-who’s-also-a-soccer-coach_ type of crouch (that was one of Scott’s things). His smell as a pack member instantly filled the room with a settled quality. Scott had never quite adapted to the whole scenting concept the way the rest of them had, though, so hadn’t done much more than swipe a quick hand across the couch on his way around.

It made Isaac’s wolf itch to touch.

Scott was wearing a red tank-top that made him look older, his toned arms an even deeper brown in mid-summer. His hair was flopping forward over his face, loose and a little too long, and Isaac bit his tongue on the urge to ask _where have you been all day_? Because it was clear that he hadn’t been at work.

“Any news from the rest of the squad?” Erica asked.

Scott frowned. “Nah, not really. Lydia, Kira, and Malia send their ‘queer regards’ from Ireland though, whatever that means.”

Erica raised an eyebrow, ignoring a punctuated “hear hear” from Stiles on the floor. “Huh. Is there anyone in this pack who isn’t queer?”

Well, shit. Looked like they were having that conversation already.

Stiles paused in his fist pumping to tilt his head at her for a moment, considering. His arm stayed floating in the air above his head as he counted off on his fingers. “Kira isn’t, she’s straight. Same with Boyd—“

“And Isaac,” Scott chimed in, which. Unhelpful, really.

“Uh,” Isaac corrected, making a split second decision to go for the easier route, “technically that’s not true. I’m bi. I think.” He wouldn’t have been straight either way, since most of the time he wasn’t actually a guy or girl, but still. That made it pretty clear cut.

Scott looked genuinely surprised “Oh. Uh, cool. That’s cool. So is Stiles.”

It was a little pathetic, really (Stiles was literally wearing his bisexuality all over his body, for one) but Isaac was grateful for the attempt. No one could resist Scott’s imploring puppy dog eyes.

“Peter’s straight, isn’t he?” Stiles continued, apparently oblivious. “Not that he really counts as pack. Liam’s straight. Oh and Derek, of course.”

Isaac snorted on an aborted laugh.

He wasn’t exactly an expert, but while he didn’t know what Derek was, he was pretty certain that it wasn’t _straight_.

Maybe Stiles hadn’t been able to notice because he was the object of Derek’s attention, so there was no pattern to pick up on. It was also possible that he figured he was doing it for everyone else’s benefit, since Derek technically hadn’t come out; Stiles wouldn’t realize that they could all smell it on him. Though, judging by the lack of reaction by the other betas, maybe it wasn’t as obvious to wolf senses as he’d assumed. Huh.

Derek looked unperturbed, though, expression typically neutral as he watched his betas talk.

“Also,” Erica added, swinging herself up and off of the couch with far too much lethal grace. “I’m pretty sure that Boyd is demiromantic.”

She leaned over to give Boyd a quick peck on the lips before grabbing a fistful of banana peel (definitely more than one in there, Isaac noted with intrigue) and her plate of crusts. She skipped with them into the kitchen, flashing a smile over her shoulder, and a second later Isaac heard the kettle come on.

All eyes turned to Boyd. He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “I was definitely sexually attracted to her right away--“

“Damn right you were, honey!” Erica’s muffled voice shouted.

Boyd smiled. “But I didn’t feel much else for a long time. And she’s the only girl I’ve ever been in love with. I guess I don’t feel a use for labels, though. They’re wonderful and important for a lot of people, just, not for me.”

Something a little _off_ had started emanating from Derek’s direction as Boyd spoke and Isaac tried to catch his eye, resisting the urge to whine at his Alpha’s suddenly turbulent emotions. Derek was staring at Boyd with incredulity, but he quickly schooled his features into something impassive.

It set Isaac on edge. It shouldn’t; he knew that he was safe. They were all fine. He just… didn’t like unexpected.

He wondered if Derek was reflecting on any of his own past loves.

Isaac, for his part, was resolutely _not_ thinking about any loves, past or present.

Stiles made a noise from the floor, sucking air in between his puckered lips. “Mmm, so Boyd’s possibly not straight, then, either. Or at least, he could choose to identify as queer. Wow, another one really does bite the dust.”

Boyd huffed as Erica popped back into the room, still grinning impishly with two cups of steeping tea. She passed one to her boyfriend with a wink as Isaac’s phone beeped, startling him out of his hyper-focus.

“Wait, Erica, what are you?” Scott asked, piping up for the first time.

Which, dear lord. It was a good thing that Scott was cute.

Erica’s grin turned razor sharp. But there was something brittle behind it, like she was disappointed by the question. She leaned over Scott with a challenging snarl. “I am pansexual as fuck, my friend, is what I am.”

Scott’s puppy-dog eyes quickly bled into stone-cold intimidation. Isaac breathed out a sympathetic laugh as he reached behind him to grab at his phone. No one really texted him outside of this room, so it was probably work. Or school.

His cheeks warmed as he caught Scott staring at him, curiosity in his eyes. He shrugged and Scott smiled, small and private. Isaac looked away.

He unlocked the phone fluidly, and he’d already opened and absorbed half of the content of the texts before his fingers realized that the phone wasn’t quite the right shape.

Stiles [06/26/2018 6:02pm] **:** Demiromantic. Over 19 million results on google (and probably not exactly what you’re looking for, dude).

Stiles [06/26/2018 6:03pm] **:** Try these instead:

[ http://www.asexualawarenessweek.com/101.html ](http://www.asexualawarenessweek.com/101.html)

[ https://www.bustle.com/articles/155277-what-does-demisexual-mean-here-are-6-signs-that-you-may-identify-as-demisexual ](https://www.bustle.com/articles/155277-what-does-demisexual-mean-here-are-6-signs-that-you-may-identify-as-demisexual)

[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gray_asexuality ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gray_asexuality)

[Stiles [06/26/2018 6:03pm] **:** Just as a starting point :) 

Isaac glanced up at Derek, who, oblivious to his phone having gone off, was staring at his shoes like they contained the answers to the universe. He sort of looked like he wasn’t sure whether he actually wanted the answers, though, or would rather just rip his shoes to threads with his teeth.

Curiousity warred with fear in Isaac over that situation, so he looked toward Stiles, who, of course, had noticed that Isaac had picked up Derek’s phone. Stiles shook his head at him minutely. He looked a little sad, too.

Isaac bit his lip. Looked at Derek again.

Isaac nodded just as subtly.

\-- -- 

“Hey, you know that we’re proud of you, right?”

It was Boyd, surprisingly, asking the question. Isaac realized belatedly that it was addressed at him and felt his cheeks grow frustratingly warm. “Oh.”

Erica tossed her sweater at him. “Of course we are, Isaac. We love you.”

Scott was watching the interaction with vague curiosity, head tilted, because of course he didn’t know what they were meant to proud of Isaac for. But he offered a shy smile anyways. “Yeah.”

Something alarmingly fluttery flipped in Isaac’s stomach. Hopeful for some reprieve, and to distract himself from whatever the hell that feeling was, he shot a look at Stiles, who rolled his eyes dramatically enough to move his head with the gesture. Then he sighed. “Fucking hell, Isaac, yeah, okay? Maybe if you ditched the scarves occasionally I’d be proud of you a little.”

There was a goofy half-grin on his face by the end, and he slapped a gentle hand over Isaac’s ankle.

Well, shit.

Isaac swallowed. “Thanks, guys.” It was sweet, what they were trying to do.

It wasn’t as if the pack hadn’t said him that before—they had, far too many times-- but somehow after today and what he’d revealed it felt like more.

Isaac was very, very lucky.

Also very, very bad at this.

After a minute, Erica blew air through her lips. “Well, now that that sappy bullshit is over, who wants to watch a movie?”

Thank god for Erica.

There was a flash of movement as Stiles bolted up from the floor. He skidded, narrowly avoiding face-planting on the hardwood by grabbing onto Derek’s arm, which was already proffered in anticipation. Stiles righted himself with an acknowledging snort and a pat on Derek’s arm as Erica and Scott started shouting movie requests in a jumble. Erica’s insistence that _no, Stiles,_ they couldn’t watch James Bond again and _absolutely no Transformers or PS. I Love You, Scott, for Christ’s sake I have that movie memorized by now_ was promptly drowned into a storm of indistinguishable noise and protest.  

Isaac distinctly heard someone ask for the Princess Bride, though (which was an amazing movie, but still prime mocking material), and he opened his mouth to comment before he realized the request had come from Derek.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” There was no way that he’d heard that correctly. That was better than bagels _and_ cream-cheese.

Derek just made his ‘I’m way hotter than everyone else on the entire planet, rich, and _Derek Hale_ so I do what I want face.’ Which, really? Unfair. He wasn’t even wearing sunglasses or leather.

“No one will ever believe you,” he explained.

Isaac was tempted to ask Stiles to repeat his list of insults. “Fucker,” he muttered, betrayed.

Derek was absolutely right, though; no one would ever believe him, not that he would tell anyone.

Derek’s smile was warm, and abruptly, Isaac realized that he still had the glitter on his cheek from earlier. It was kind of adorable--  in the way that like, Pitbull puppies are--  but Isaac wouldn’t be caught dead saying that aloud (not sincerely, at least).

Instead, he nudged Derek. “So… Straight, huh?”

Derek gave him a narrow-eyed look, expression unreadable. He shrugged. “Something like that.”

Isaac ducked his head, warmth climbing up in his stomach at the little victory.

But he wasn’t going to push it. “I call dibs on the popcorn!” he piped up instead, loud enough for the group to hear, just because he could; was predictably hit with four different pillows. “And, uh,” he licked over his lip, “what about a Pride themed movie for tonight?”

That was met with much more enthusiasm. Boyd suggested that they make it a monthly queer-themed movie night, and Scott offered to bring his laptop in to livestream with the rest of the pack next time too. Isaac thought the girls would get a kick out of it.

As the group settled on a movie, Isaac snuggled into Derek’s side, sliding his legs off of Boyd’s lap but making sure to lean quickly under his arm to make up for the loss of contact. He moved a cushion down on the floor for Erica, who was already crawling over with her blanket, and wiggled as Derek settled Stiles between his calves. Scott hung out a little on the periphery at first, unsure, but ended up in between Stiles and Erica on the floor with the remote on his lap, pointed at the screen.

Not bad.

By the end of the first scene, Isaac was not surprised to find that Stiles’s hand had lodged itself into the back of one of his socks. Erica was petting through his leg hair (which, weird, but also surprisingly not), and by the time the first movie was finished even Scott had let the back of his head rest ever-so-softly on the inside of Isaac’s leg, which was ticklish and distracting, but Isaac didn’t mind.

He was also not surprised when they queued up the second movie on Netflix, too, so that no one would have to move.

It was just the way things were.

\-- --

Isaac wasn’t dumb. None of them were.

They knew that things weren’t going to be as easy out there as they were in here. That people still weren’t accepting of the queer thing. Hell, Isaac was sure that there were kids being locked in freezers, right that second, for being queer-- probably more than one, probably even one closer than he could expect.

There were no clean slates. He knew that.

There were politicians who condemned their existence, whole online forums dedicated to mocking people like him, so many things that it made his head spin.

Basically, there was a lot of bullshit.

But here, in this room, surrounded by _friends pack family_ , Isaac kind of couldn’t find it in him to care. At least for now (and maybe he deserved that break).

His pack had accepted his news. They’d said that they loved him. They definitely inspired him, with their brazen resoluteness to be themselves; this was the pack that smiled and said thank you, after all, when challenges came their way (and then had a much-needed group hug). And they were all so goddamn proud of each other. Always had been, really.

Isaac was a part of that now.

So yeah, fuck, life was hard and it was hard for people like him because he was people like him. But he’d gone to a parade today. He’d seen people holding flags meant for him, waving signs created just to try to make him feel okay. He’d worn cool as fuck sunglasses and smiled and pretended that he was normal, even as he’d kind of felt like he didn’t have to be.

And—well. To see the floats, the dancers, the singing, the fucking confetti falling from the sky... It had been like—like being _queer_ , and being all there, whole and together and happy, was the biggest achievement of their lives.

In this moment, surrounded by the warmth of his family, Isaac kind of agreed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me at @wewalkadifferentpath on tumblr or @adifferentpath on twitter. Also taking requests for this series :) feel free to start pizza-crust discourse in the comments
> 
> thank you to the people who've been so supportive all the way along with this series (you know who you are!)


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